Legolas didn't flinch.

Actually, he did nothing at all but let his eyes rove for injuries. How... could he not see the similarities? She had Thranduil's hair and facial structure, she even held herself like him—even though she couldn't have possibly met the deceased King. Still, he only looked upon her with the wariness of a soldier.

Strangely, or maybe not so strange for her, Kaylessa said nothing as she faced Legolas. She assessed Legolas the way one would before taking on a foe. Her lips almost straightened to a firm line.

Don't do it, I pleaded. Don't tell him.

Instead, Kaylessa turned her eyes to me. "Well, you certainly look better."

"...What?"

"You know each other?" Legolas shifted.

Kaylessa sniffed and ignored her brother. "Could use a bath for the smell though. Honestly, do you expect me to lodge with pigs? That's downright unsanitary."

"I... what?" I felt helplessly dumb in her presence. As if there was some master information tucked under Kaylessa's nose that I couldn't reach or see.

"I'm traveling with you, idiot. And you both smell like the waste in the streets of Gondor."

Legolas intervened, "who are you and—"

"Save your breath, princeling—" Legolas narrowed his eyes at that "—I am Kaylessa, Daughter of the Woods, and I will escort you to Lothlorien."

"Lothlorien—?"

"We're going to Mirkwood," I informed. "To—"

"Gather armies, rally support, see family. Yes, I know."

"No," I said grimly. "The King is dead."

Kaylessa froze.

And then in the blink of an eye melted, as if she never heard. "Ah, well that is unfortunate."

Legolas narrowed his eyes further. "You—"

"Need to stop jumping to conclusions." She sighed melodramatically with a molten-metal shake of the head. "I do have a habit of doing that. Then again I'm usually always right."

"We cannot stop at Loth—"

"Actually, you can. And you will. Your supplies are running low, you smell like horse dung, and you need a place to rest without worrying about an orc stabbing you in the back. And I would not mind having a few extra sword-bearers to protect my own back on the journey there."

"Could you let me finish...!" He trailed off as if expecting her to intercede. Kaylessa cocked her head waiting for him to continue.

"Cat got your tongue, princeling?"

Legolas growled. "I barely know you, elf. I will not so readily trust an elleth that has taken down such a foe so easily." The troll's corpse loomed behind her. "I cannot let you travel with us and we cannot afford to stop at Lothlorien."

"Really? I would have thought the reason be my unusual treatment of you. I'm sorry, princeling, if I do not grovel at your feet like every other love-struck elleth or battle-excited ellon."

Legolas only narrowed his eyes further.

"Um... Maybe we could ride with you until the Lothlorien borders...?" I eyed Legolas. "Or until we reach the edge of Mirkwood's forests, near Dol Guldur?"

I immediately sucked in a breath, wishing I had not mentioned that name.

I was surprised when he did not even tense. Well, tense more.

Kaylessa smiled as if the proposition was exactly what she wanted—expected even. "I could manage that."

Then Legolas brightened and smiled smugly. "But you will slow us down, as you do not have a h—"

Kaylessa let out a low whistle and at the call came forth a black and white stallion. She smiled 'pleasantly.'

*********

Kaylessa did not complain when we did not stop to rest for the past nights, didn't complain at the day's heat or the way the sky poured out its tears on us, not even when we passed by a stream we could've used to bathe. She stayed silent, only answering our questions when it suited her. Sometimes she commented on this or that, but never in a bratty-princess way.

I recalled upon a conversation we had several days ago.

"Kaylessa, when we met before, you mentioned you were heading to Rohan. I didn't see you there." I swayed to the horse's gait.

Kaylessa sat high in her saddle, yet her shoulders carried an invisible weight. "Then you didn't look in the right places."

"But why—"

"Reasons you need not know now."

Now, Kaylessa still sat high on her horse as we let the horses walk instead of run. I suspected she did not need a saddle—just like Legolas—and only used one for the same reason as her brother: storage for supplies. She carried a green blanket (that she didn't use for the nights we did stop) and a faded leather bag with food. I didn't know what else she carried in the sack.

The day's shadows grew long, and the horizon turned into an artists pallet. Even after eighteen years, sunsets still amaze me. I wanted to shoulder a pack and don a wide-brimmed hat, so I could hike towards that setting sun, just to see what lays beyond its array of fiery colors.

"Daro," Legolas whispered. Despite resting upon riding, he sounded exhausted. Kaylessa and I also halted our horses and dismounted. We wouldn't be stopping for tonight. This was just one of the many rests we allowed the horses. Despite the itch on our backs telling us to hasten towards Mirkwood, we knew that without strong horses, it would hinder us.

Legolas stood atop the hill with the newborn moon casting his features in shadows. He gazed out towards his home, figure strongly standing in the ways of a prince. He had too much of a burden on his shoulders. The tortured death of his soldiers as they cursed his fea, the reputation he had to uphold, the whole of his military looking up to him. But now the unexpected weight of a crown haunted him, yet to be received. He knew his people waited for him and every moment not moving in the direction of his home pained him.

I sighed and settled myself down. We would rest an hour before continuing. I silently thanked Eru for the Rohan horses, who seemed far superior to their cousins. This breed could last longer without sleep or rest and had much more durability and strength.

Legolas's bow gleamed in the starlight. Sadly, it was strung across his back—where I couldn't get to it. Shaking my head, I unhooked Gorthaden from my waist.

Taking my long-dagger, I pressed its tip to the leather of Gorthaden's sheath, but hesitated. I couldn't do this with such a long blade.

Sighing again, I moved over to where Kaylessa rested and handed her the sheathed sword.

"Could you... engrave 'Gorthaden' into the leather?"

She gave me a funny look but obliged, pulling out a small knife. I eyed the small blade warily, smothering the image of a wizened white wizard.

A short while later, Gorthaden hanged from my waist once more, now having its name scrawled elegantly (in the ragged, scratched way only a knife could) at the top of its sheath. After retrieving the sword after the Battle of Helm's Deep, I had personally apologized to the sword for having to abandon it and use a different blade. It just... didn't feel right not to hold Gorthaden. It's part of me now. Perhaps forever.

I bit my lip, gazing up towards the stars. "Do you think Varda can tell when we look to her creation?"

For some reason, Kaylessa laughed. The sound drew Legolas's blue gaze. "I know someone who knows too much about the Valar and Maiar. She could probably tell you who woke early and those who slept in." She shook her head, a soft smile on her lips.

But she blinked, looking off towards the dark horizon, the smile fading.

"Your mother," I inquired of her once Legolas looked away, "is she well?"

She gazed over at her brother, perhaps seeing Elellótë's hair in his. She nodded. "Yes... as much as she can be."

Her light brows furrowed in thought. "She does feel guilty. She knows and agrees with the accusations you had made upon her. But 'tis not her fault for having lost her memories. Still, there are gaps."

"But... have you tried getting her to return to the Kingdom?" Even though I knew of her faulty memories, I still felt anger. The Queen had left her son, husband, and people to anguish.

"Yes, many times. She is... afraid of the response she will receive."

I cocked my head in question. "But wouldn't she be received with loving arms?"

"She does not believe this. She claims she will return if Middle-Earth's situation worsens, yet I know she only says this to quiet my logical reasons. Crucial memories that may help her have the confidence to return are still lost to her after her fall."

Yes, from her supposed death after her rescue from an orc fortress.

I gazed ahead at the Prince in silence, listening to the loving embrace of the singing grasses.

"Have you visited Mirkwood?"

"Nay," she answered. "Doing so would risk someone recognizing my heritage."

Then, "Is it true that Eryn Galen has fallen to Darkness?"

I solemnly nodded. "Yes. But I've always known it as Mirkwood. The tree-homes my Silvan parents live in have happily evaded the evil but... I'm afraid my home will fall soon. Every year the illness creeps closer to my home."

Kaylessa fell silent again. The more time I spent around her, the more of Thranduil I saw in her. She was like ice, just like her father. Never did she let her shoulders droop. Yes, Legolas did the same but there was a warmth in the way he held himself and that warmth-of-heart always oozed out in his actions when around others.

But Kaylessa... her coldness emanated from her in a mysterious way that made you want to know her more. The way intelligence shone in her eyes and retorts rested on her lips. Thranduil could hold back insults at the best of times, but Kaylessa could wield them like weapons at any moment.

And yet... Kaylessa's cheeks turned warm when she laughed, and her icy eyes melted to spring when she smiled. She wasn't heartless, just an elleth who had seen and known too much hardship.

"We're close," Legolas announced as he finally, finally came to rest beside me. "Lothlorien's borders are in my sight."

"And... are we going into those borders...?"

Legolas remained silent. I wondered what was going on in that pretty head of his. I'd ask, but he'd probably wouldn't tell me with Kaylessa in earshot.

An owl hooted overhead, its body blending in like paint into the masterpiece of night.

And then the moon moved from its abode and strolled to another constellation to occupy.

We boarded our horses and took to the unseen path once more.

*********

This time I knew what to look for.

The forest of my birth lay like a blanket of black spires, as it had all those nights ago. Even from this distance, the ethereal majesty of its whole emanated from its depths whenever I looked upon it. The wood cast its calming spell upon all those who gazed upon its shadow, even now when the sun was just below the horizon.

I leaned down, a smile faint on my lips and whispered in the horse's ear, "almost there." I patted his neck. "Then we can rest properly."

But unlike last time, no dread at what could lay in its branches pressed against me. I longed to be embraced by the songs that seeped through the woods, sang by the elves. Despite the urgency to reach Mirkwood... I just wanted to rest in a bed and be clean. And selfishly, I wanted to stay a few days. Catch up with the few friends I had made.

I smiled, thinking of Braiglach. Oh, how she would delight in the way I wield my sword.

But... She'd be meeting a new person. Sauron's presence and Saruman's knife had carved me into a new person.

Mood severely dampened, I whispered an elven command and rode up next to Legolas, who had a frown different from my own tainting his lips.

"What's wrong?"

His eyes, full of militaristic strategies, flitted to mine. "These lands have been tainted. I wish to send a scout ahead or at the very least a footrunner. I would do it myself, yet I do not trust that elf to be alone with you."

"You know," I started, an amused smile lighting my eyes, "she isn't too bad."

"She feels... off."

"Like what?" I asked panicked. He couldn't have guessed already about the blood they share, had he?

His eyes filled with a storm cloud of uncertainty. "I don't know."

He shook his head. "Let's not focus on a dreary topic, huril vuin.

"What would be a pleasing topic, hir Legolas?"

"The last book you read, tell me a tale from its chapters."

Oh, dear. He sure knows the way to a girls' heart. My own sped up.

"Well! The last book I read had no interesting tales, hir vuin." I said the title with a joking lilt. "Only factual events from Rohan's past."

His eyes twinkled. "Sounds like my childhood schooling. Any worth Vaire's tapestries?"

I looked up to the stars as I scoured my brain. For a terrifying moment, I came up with nothing!

"Somewhere in the third age... so this age now, I guess... a population of Northmen, people originally from Rohan, dwelled in the eaves of Mirkwood. They were ruled over by a lordship known as... Marhari, I think? They allied with the King of Gondor—whose name I cannot remember—but they were defeated by Wainriders."

Legolas nodded. "Yes, Marhari was his name. And the King's name was Narmarcil ll. After the defeat, Marhari's son, Marhwini, lead the remains of their people and became chieftain. They became known as the Rohirrim."

I gaped at him. "you remember all that? Their name's and such?"

Legolas laughed. "Of course, hiril nin. I take care in remembering the names of those I meet."

"What?!"

He chuckled. "Goheno nin for saying, but that is a comical expression upon your face." He then imitated that expression.

I rolled my eyes. "You should see you. Most of the time you look so grim, you look like one of the Beorlings! Always a grump and such."

"Hiril nin!"

"Hir nin!" I copied, falling into a fit of laughter. I wiped tears of joy from my eyes as I straightened in the saddle, then caught sight of Legolas's amused face.

"I feel as if I should start calling you a beorling now," I quipped.

"Only if I may call you Kelvar."

"But... that's all of them."

He smiled. "Exactly. One moment you're a hasty woodland hare, then a pouncing pard!"

Then he leaned in, as if telling a secret. "And sometimes you're as lazy as a some of the small Kelvar, who only grump and snarl when poked awake from their rest."

I scowled, "that's only som—"

"Daro! Avo pedo!" Kaylessa hissed, her horse sidling up next to ours.

"Am man theled?" Legolas asked quietly. No venom stained his words, only a soldiers' wariness.

Kaylessa looked to the horizon behind us. And then met Legolas's eyes.

"Yrch anglennol."

Legolas's eyes widened and without a moment's hesitation, he drew his bow and inspected the horizon Kaylessa had indicated.

Slowly, I unsheathed Gorthaden, eyeing the greying horizon. The slight grating sound as I pulled out my sword was as loud as thunder in the eerie silence.

And then... I heard it. A dull, unorganized roar. Not of angry shouts of war, but of the squabbling of orcs, the clanging of metal, and the crude laughter.

A single broad figure, hunched down low, crested a hill.

And then, after a quick shout of alarm, ran back down to the other orcs. A haunting, chilling yell permeated the air. Several followed in chorus.

"Drego!" Legolas yelled, and spurred his horse into action.

Kaylessa and I soon followed, keeping low to the backs of our mounts. Lothlorien, which had been startling close, now seemed alarmingly far away.

The roar of orcs turned ravenous.

My heart jumped in my throat as a black-fletched arrow skimmed my ear. Legolas skillfully twisting his torso around and shot several arrows of his own. A warg whined.

And then suddenly my horse whinnied, and my world twisted and tumbled as I flied off the horse, landing some yards away. My head pulsed painfully as the sky and grass blended together in an artists pallet... sounds melted away...

And then came back with sudden clarity as searing pain bled red into my eyes. My healing leg ached.

I forced myself to my feet, searching for my horse...

The brown beauty lay bleeding on its side, an arrow stuck in its leg and neck. He raised his head and cried out.

Orcs yelled in victory.

I looked up and saw I was caught in the crossfires between the enemy and my friends. The orcs and wargs approached in blood-thirsty glee. The leading orcs didn't hold scimitars, or even swords, but ropes and bludgeons.

My blood went cold. I sought out my friends in the greenish-gray field of dawn. Legolas barked an order to Kaylessa that I didn't hear. She kicked her horse faster towards the forest. Legolas, however, turned his horse in a teetering maneuver and galloped full throttle towards me.

And I sprinted with all my might towards him, panic clouding over my pain.

"Legolas!!" His name burbled out in a screech of terror. I could practically feel warg breath on my neck.

He didn't have his princely mask on, instead, desperation marked it. His horse loomed ahead, it's mighty hooves shaking the ground... he reached out a hand...

And I took his strong grip as he hoisted me up, using the momentum to push off the ground and swing onto the saddle behind Legolas.

I gripped tightly onto Legolas, probably making it hard for him to breathe, but I didn't care. I looked over my shoulder as we galloped away.

Orcs snarled and whipped their wargs into going faster, promising the beasts a tasty meal in return. But I saw no White Hand of Saruman staining their leathers.

But I saw an Eye.

Despite the horse being of a magnificent Rohan breed, it slowed. The weight of both Legolas and I was too much.

"Lumornel," Legolas urged. "Take the reins." He pressed the leather into my hands.

"No!" I exclaimed, realizing what he was going to do. "No! Don't go! They'll kill you!" I dropped the reins like they were made of fire.

"If I don't, then they'll kill you."

I stared helplessly at him and realized the only thing I could do...

Was hold onto him as tightly as I could.

So I did just that.

"Lum!" He spluttered, holding his arms aloft as I hugged him tightly. "Leithio nîn!"

He pried at my arms, but I let loose a blast of energy, forcing his hands away.

"You're not going anywhere." I muttered the words into his shoulder, pleading with my tone for him to give up escaping.

"...goheno nin," he said, leaving me utterly confused as to what he was talking about as the wind blew in my face.

But then Legolas pulled out a knife.

I flinched, and using the opportunity, Legolas pried himself from me and fell from the horse.

"No!" The reins dropped from my hands as I spun around.

I watched in horror as Legolas pulled out his bow and began shooting down yrch.

A riderless warg pounced upon Legolas as he drew his sword. The warg fell upon the Prince lifeless, blade going through its furry neck and out the other side. An orc swaggered up to Legolas as he tried pushing the heavy animal off him. But the orc put a booted foot on the beast, shoving Legolas down. The creature then made a move to step on Legolas's face. And Legolas caught the foot—

The whinnying of horses pierced the air.

Turning back to the forest, I saw the trees nearly upon me. Elven riders broke free from the woods, bows twanging. Even though the Lorien elves were not nearly as skilled as their Mirkwood brothers', the majority of their arrows found their mark.

The elven border patrollers split around me like a river.

"Hiril vuin?" A taken aback ellon stopped before me, his sword hand slowly descending. "Ai! It really is you!"

The ellon laughed with glee. And as he rode closer, a wide smile across his face, I recognized him.

"Gantar!" I yelled in elation. Laughing, I put a fist to my chest in greeting. And then I remembered Erlathan. Gantar had been there the day he had died. But then little Jeden's words came to me. It was not I who had killed Erlathan, it was the orc. I did not hold Gorthaden as it killed the ellon, the orc did.

Gantar turned grave, the inner warrior coming to the surface. "Tolo ar nin." He swerved around on his horse, grabbing my reins and galloped us into Lothlorien.

"Daro!" Gantar didn't stop. "What about Legolas?! Where's Kaylessa?"

He almost faltered. "Thranduilion? He's here?"

"Yes! He was attacked!"

"The others will take care of him, huril vuin. Kaylessa? She was the elleth who informed us of your trouble. As did—"

"Ai!" A brown-haired ellon bounded across the shaded ground. "It is Huril Vuin!"

"Phraan!"

"Gwador! We mustn't stop. Contain your glee until we are safer within the forest."

Phraan complied, shoulders stiffening as he took my reins from Gantar, but when Gantar wasn't looking Phraan snuck me grins.

"How have you two fared?" I asked after he smiled for the fifth time.

"Quite well, huril vuin," Phraan eagerly said before his brother could. "Lady Galadriel has been as fair as ever and Lord Celeborn as kind and scholarly as he's ever been."

I looked behind me. Is Legolas and the galadhrim okay?

"Shouldn't they be back by now?" Something felt wrong.

Phraan laughed. "They are quite able to handle themselves against a pack of orcs, huril vuin."

"But..."

"Rest assured, huril vuin," Gantar began. "The Lord and Lady hand-picked our team from the best of the Galadhrim to meet you."

Ah, of course, Galadriel foresaw our arrival. Albeit forced it was.

"Where's Kaylessa?"

Gantar shifted uncomfortably.

"What? What wrong?"

"Nothing," Phraan said, looking off to the side. "She's just... odd."

"How so?"

Phraan hesitated, then shifted closer. "I shouldn't be speaking ill of a lady, but it seems as if she's hiding something from us all."

"But gwador, Lady Galadriel has no disdain towards Lady Kaylessa..." Gantar trailed off, as if Galadriel's trust didn't sway his thoughts.

"Well..." She's not as odd as she seems. That'd be wrong though. Kaylessa is a puzzle in herself. Thoughts never showed on her face and she seemed to know everything before it happens, as if she had planned it all out. Never mind the fact that she's an undiscovered princess. Or she and her mother are on to something that I don't even know much about. Such as Alagosson.

"... Huril Vuin?" Phraan inquired, his curious eyes wide with worry.

Shaking my head, I adjusted myself on the saddle. "'Tis nothing, mellon."

Phraan didn't look convinced, but he nodded anyway, the filtered light bouncing off his brown hair.

And then I really took in my surroundings.

Magnificent mallorn trees loomed overhead, emanating a feeling of undefinable age. Their silvery-gray bark reflected broken dawn light as plants grew and crept around their trunk for support or as citizens gathered around their leader. Golden leaves that would never fall freely, fluttered overhead. Their skin brushed against my hair, pulling ever so slightly as if to tell me to stop and admire their beauty.

"The trees, they sing to you." Phraan gazed up in awe.

The ageless trees pulled back my attention. "What do they say?"

Phraan shook his head. "Remarkable things. Praises. They truly care for you."

What? He held his thoughts clearly in his irises, and no lies found their way to the surface. Instead, they twinkled.

Gantar stopped his horse. "He doesn't lie, I too hear their melodies."

And then Gantar whipped his head around to the north-west. "We're approaching, huril vuin."

But Caras Galadhon is still too far away... "Approaching what—?"

Tall and lithe figures materialized as golden leaves and dark bark cleared.

Lord Celeborn, Lady Galadriel, and a handful of galadhrim.

*********

"Popcorn for breakfast? Why not? It's a grain. It's like—like grits. But with high self-esteem."
             —Maximum Ride
I hope I got that right. I took it from memory.

Thoooouuughtsssss??

Weird question: how are you? *gives you a hug because I'm just in that mood*  *pulls away because gross human contact*

Translations:

Kalvar: animals, those not tied down to the earth (so not plants)

Daro! Avo pedo!: Stop! Silence!

Am man theled?: For what purpose?

Yrch anglennol: orcs are coming

Drego!: flee!

Leithio nin!: Release me!"

Yrch: orcs

Tolo ar nin: Come with me

Gwador: Brother

Novaer, mellyn
~awatin~